


The Reason I Hold On

by Layne Faire (HisDarlin)



Series: BIGB 'verse [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-17 12:58:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/867798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HisDarlin/pseuds/Layne%20Faire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, there is no easy option, no right choice. Working through the implications could be the hardest part of the decision.<br/>Written for the other half of me, zappowziamfeelsbomb.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Reason I Hold On

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zappowziamfeelsbomb (otppurefuckingmagic)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/otppurefuckingmagic/gifts).



 

Based on this [gifset](http://dailydoseofziam.tumblr.com/post/54100551162), the events of June 24th - 26th, and my own personal headcanon of what was happening behind the scenes. 

And I probably shouldn't have been listening to Adam Lambert singing _Stay_ and _Underneath_ on replay for two days.

 

_**The Reason I Hold On** _

It had seemed like the perfect idea at the time. Anything other than management’s fake engagement had seemed like a good idea, to be honest. When Zayn proposed the tattoo as an alternative, Liam had been reluctant to agree, only acquiescing when Zayn showed him the artwork he planned to cover it with the minute they were free of the sham relationship. _Maybe_ , he thought, _if I had thought of something else. Put up with Danielle a little longer . . ._ He knew the thoughts were futile. Getting rid of Danielle had probably been the only thing he and management had agreed on in the last six months. 

Management had been all over the tattoo idea, with the thinly veiled threat that it better be believable or the engagement would be back on the table. The other boys had protested, especially Louis, insisting that things were going too far. He had dragged Liam aside, out of earshot of Zayn, and laid into him.

“What the hell are you two doing?” Louis kept his voice low, but his concern remained evident.  “This isn’t a game, Li! Tattoos are fucking permanent. Think, man!”

“We are thinking, Lou!” Liam hissed back. “That’s all we’ve done is think about it. The alternative isn’t any better. Zee already drew the cover-up. The minute this bullshit is over, he’s going to take care of it.”

“And what about you? Zee may be wearing it, but you’ll have to look at it every day. Did you consider how you’re going to handle that?”

“We’ll manage.” Liam scrubbed his hand over his hair, his frustration evident. “Just a few more months, and it’ll all be over.”

“You hope.” Louis glared at him, then let his shoulders drop in resignation. “Okay, fine, but you’re not doing this alone. I’ll come with you.”

“No, Lou, c’mon. You’re supposed to go see the Stones with Hazza. You can’t miss that,” Liam protested. “It’s almost a proper date for you two.”

Louis snorted. “Right. Because we haven’t already been ordered not to stand together at the show, just in case someone snaps a picture. Stop arguing. I’m coming with, and that’s that.”

**~*~*~*~  
**

Paul had scoped out a shop, ensuring no one else would be allowed in while they were there. Well, almost no one. Management forgot to mention the camera crew they’d called in to “accidentally” report on the whole thing. By mid-week, the story of Zayn’s “undying devotion” would be publicized anywhere they could sell the story. Apparently just in time. Someone had conveniently neglected to mention that Perrie was being flown in for the New York shows later in the week; they’d waited until the outline of Zayn’s tattoo had been completed to let that little tidbit slip. The weight of everything slammed down on Liam at once, and it proved to be too much to bear.

With muttered apologies to Zayn, while avoiding Louis’ sympathetic glance, Liam left the shop, barely making it around the building before he lost his lunch. When a bottle of water appeared next to his head, he accepted it, rinsing out his mouth with the first sip, and then letting the rest of the chilled liquid ease the burning sensation in his throat.

“I wanted to tell you sooner,” Marco said, not meeting Liam’s level gaze. “My hands were tied.”

Liam laughed bitterly, his fingers tightening around the plastic bottle until it buckled under the force of his grip. “I know. You’re just another one of their puppets, just like the rest of us.” He looked around the quiet neighborhood. “I need to get some fresh air. Can I . . .” His voice trailed off, the yearning evident.

“Yeah, it’ll be fine. Take one of the guards with you; whoever you want. I’ll tell them to give you some space.”

He’d wandered aimlessly around the small Baltimore suburb, oblivious to the progression of the sun across the sky and the growing darkness. It was only when his phone chimed with a message from Louis, letting him know they were done, that he finally retraced his steps. 

Everyone was already waiting in the car when he arrived back at the otherwise-empty shop.  Zayn stared blankly out the car window, his dull eyes showing little interest in the passing scenery. He flinched when Liam reached for his hand. Instead of taking it, he pulled Louis’ borrowed hoodie tighter around himself. Dejected, Liam let his hand fall to the seat in between them. Maybe Louis had been right, after all. It hadn’t even been an hour since the work was finished, and the implications of the tattoo already weighed on Zayn. What would the next few months bring if Modest wouldn’t drop the relationship?

**~*~*~*~**

The next few days continued in the same vein, with Zayn withdrawing more and more. Liam managed to hold it together on stage in Philadelphia, but only just. Zayn had barely spoken since Monday, retreating into himself, his sketch pad lying listlessly in his lap when he’d bothered to pick it up. They had all tried their best to stir a reaction from the introspective boy, but even Niall’s antics hadn’t produced a smile. Despite everything though, Zayn hadn’t taken to locking himself away in their room. The lack of seclusion had remained the only beacon of hope Liam could hold onto over the past two days.

When they were alone, it was a different story.

 Zayn had taken to curling into the smallest ball possible at night, retreating to the edge of the bed if Liam tried to touch him. There was no way around it; the rejection hurt, and it left Liam even more frustrated than the silence. The subconscious mind is a tricky thing, though. No matter how they fell asleep, Liam always woke with Zayn draped across him, holding on as if his life depended on it, the traces of silent tears still visible on his gaunt cheeks.

The pressure, the stress, the continuous lies – they were all wearing Zayn down. His weight had begun to plummet, his already-slight frame becoming increasingly thinner as management’s edicts took an emotional and physical toll on him.  Liam didn’t know how to be there for Zayn anymore, becoming lost in the struggle to hide his own feelings of anger and guilt. Anger because of that damned tattoo and the fallacy it represented; guilt because he hadn’t been able to stay with Zayn when he went through with it.

And Zayn had done everything possible to make it easier on both of them to deal with the tattoo’s existence. Other than sound check, when the temperature had hovered near boiling point, Zayn had stuck to wearing long-sleeved shirts – all the time. He wouldn’t shower if Liam was in the room, wouldn’t even change backstage where Liam could see him. It was as if the tattoo had become Zayn’s personal Mark of Cain, his Scarlet Letter – the outward symbol of the inner struggle to reconcile his culture and heritage with his sexual identity.

Liam knew how much easier things would be for Zayn if he could live up to others’ expectations for him. It all played on Liam’s fears – fears of not being enough, of being rejected again, of being left behind. But more than anything, it made him selfish. Trusting himself and trusting Zayn’s love had not come without a price, but once he’d chosen Zayn, he never looked back at what he’d left behind. Could Zayn say the same anymore, when the cost to him was so much higher?

**~*~*~*~**

Another night, another show. Boston this time. A fan had brought them Power Ranger morph suits, and for the first time all week, Liam saw Zayn smile, heard that familiar laugh, and felt the pain of knowing that it had nothing to do with him. Louis had freaked over the costumes, wanting to wear them on stage, but the idea had been vetoed by management via Marco shortly before show time. Some bullshit about licensing, endorsements – what-the-fuck-ever. It hadn’t stopped them from wearing them around backstage, though. And with every smile he saw on Zayn’s face, Liam’s heart yearned for the man Zayn had been before they’d stepped through the doors of Tattooed Heart on Monday.

The show started out smoothly, though Liam frequently felt the weight of Louis’ gaze on him. If Liam was “Daddy Directioner,” Louis was the Mother Hen. He always knew when his lads were on edge. At the end of “I Would,” Louis grabbed his arm.

“You alright, mate?”

Liam nodded, pulling his arm away. “Yeah, ‘m good. The show must go on, right?” He walked away before Louis could push for a better answer.

Then they sang “More Than This.”

He wasn’t sure what happened, why it all hit him out of the blue. Maybe it was the memories of what it had been like last summer, when they were still figuring out their relationship. Maybe it was because Zayn stood so far away now, or the fact that he looked right through Liam, where before he would have sung directly to him. Or maybe it was nothing at all and he had reached his breaking point. Suddenly, Liam couldn’t breathe, and the pain in his heart shattered, leaving him empty. He could sing, he could make his marks, but it might as well have been someone else on stage, for the overwhelming lack of emotion he felt. Except loss. He felt that – like a piece of him had been stolen, a piece he could see but couldn’t pick up, couldn’t take back.

And the show went on around him.

Liam watched Louis glance back at Zayn, saw Louis acknowledge Niall’s hand motion in his direction. He avoided both of their attempts to talk to him. Instead he closed his eyes, holding back the tears that filled them when Zayn’s voice washed over the crowd from the platform where he stood above them all. What a sad metaphor for what their lives had become. Just out of reach, separated by the machinations of everyone who should have been on their side.

The band launched into “Loved You First,” changing the tempo to bring the crowd surging back toward the stage. Liam went through the motions – move to the front, sing his solo, up the stairs, down the stairs. Each step was rote. At this point in the tour, he could’ve done it in his sleep. He stepped back during the second chorus when Zayn normally would have been right there with a smile, and turned around to – nothing.

What was left of Liam’s heart lodged in his throat. He walked to the back of the stage to pull himself together, dragging an arm across his eyes to dash away the tears that escaped. Louis stopped, dropping an arm around Liam’s shoulder to comfort him. Niall looked between them and Zayn, and apparently made the decision to run interference. He jogged to the front of the stage, coming to a stop in front of Zayn when he turned around. Zayn peered around his blond band mate, dropping the hand he’d lifted to point at Liam while he sang “I loved you first.” Lifting his arms in a wide shrug, Zayn stepped to the side, bowing as if ceding center stage to Niall for his solo. Somehow, they made it through the rest of the song and "One Thing", to the break and wardrobe change.

They’d barely made it off stage when Niall jerked Liam up short. “I’ve about had enough of the two of ya’. You’ll talk tonight, or I’m damn well goin’ t’ know why.”

“I’m not the one not talking, Nialler.” Liam dragged his sweat-soaked shirt over his head, wiping his face with it, before continuing, “I’ve been trying for three days, but you can only say so much when the person you’re talking to tunes you out.”

“I’ll figure it out. Either way, yer gonna fix this.” Niall stormed away before Liam could respond.

The remainder of the show went off without a hitch, Liam cycling between anticipation and fear of what was to come. He threw his all into the show, willing it to move faster, praying he wouldn’t regret wishing away the last few minutes he had to figure out what to say. Words had never come easily to him, especially not when they mattered most. And the upcoming conversation could be the most important one he ever had to muddle through.

**~*~*~*~**

Niall stood between Liam and Zayn during the final bow, pulling the taller lad up short when they stepped offstage.

“Ashton and them are joining Louis and me for a FIFA tournament on our bus. Ye got their bus to yerselves. Louis will get Zayn on it. Don’t fuck this up, Payne.”

Liam nodded, then pulled his friend into a hug. “I’ll do the best I can.”

“No, y’ll do better, cause it matters more,” Niall whispered. “It’ll be alright, but ye’ have to trust him, and ye have t’ let him know you do. He’s not going anywhere, Li. He didn’t wait almost two years to let it all go now. He’s just as scared as ye are. Show him how t’ fight again.” He pulled away, his cheeks reddening over the sudden emotional outburst. Clearing his throat, Niall tipped his head toward the dressing room that they’d shared before the show. “Now go. Get cleaned up. Ye need t’ be on the bus before Zayn is.”

Liam turned to walk away, stopping and looking back when Niall called out to him.

“Oh and Li? Ashton said change t’ fucking sheets when yer done.”

Liam lifted his hand over his head, flipping Niall off while picking the pace up to a light jog. His blood thrummed, rushing through his veins, each beat of his pulse echoing Zayn’s name, a refrain it hadn’t sung in three days. He rushed through his shower, tugging on the red-trimmed Nike sweatpants he’d nicked from Zayn months before, and a plain white tee. Pausing only long enough to make sure he had all his gear, he rushed out of the dressing room.

Harry stood in front of the door across the hall, talking quietly to Paul. He looked up, his brows furrowed in concern, but a smile tilting the corners of his lips nonetheless.

“He just got in the shower. Lou shoved me in first, then insisted on going second to slow him down. We’re going back to the hotel tonight, leaving in the morning.” The words left him in a languid drawl, but the import wasn’t lost on Liam. “No one wants to see either one of you inside the hotel until whatever’s going on is sorted, ‘kay?” When Liam nodded in agreement, Harry beamed, his mouth stretching into a wide grin, the cavernous dimples appearing in each cheek. “Good. I arranged a little surprise for the two of you onboard.”

Lunging for Harry, Liam wrapped his free arm around his friend. “Thanks, Haz.”

With a muffled chuckle, Harry squeezed back, then set Liam away. “You don’t even know what I did yet; it might be an awful practical joke.”

“Doubt it, but it wasn’t that anyway. It was more a thanks for all of you just being you, so share it with Lou, too, yeah?”

“Yeah, I get it. Now go, before he finishes and gets out here.”

Liam hugged Harry once more, before turning to sprint down the hallway. His friends’ support buoyed his spirits, and he felt almost certain he could do this. 

**~*~*~*~**

5 Seconds of Summer’s bus idled at the end of the row, the door already wide open. Liam grasped the handrail and hauled himself up, skipping the bottom two steps in his haste. When he entered the dim interior, their driver, David . . . Dave . . . Dan -  Fuck! Liam couldn’t remember his name – set aside the paper he’d been reading and offered a warm smile.

“I’ve been given to understand I’m not carting around my usual lot this evening.”

“No, sir. I mean yes, sir you understand correctly, no the boys are going to ride on our bus.” Not sure how much the driver knew, despite the NDA he’d had to sign, Liam opted to gloss over the rest of the plans. “I’ve got a bit of a headache, and Zayn’s not feeling well, so we asked to swap off to get a bit of quiet.”

“Yeah, Ash might’ve said something along those lines. Just slide the partition; you’ll have all the privacy you’ll need.” The driver –Dave? Yeah Liam was pretty sure that was it- waved toward the narrow passageway. “Pretty soundproof, too,” he added with an indiscreet cough, before continuing, “I’ll just park and let the bus sit idle when we get to the hotel. If you need anything, I’ll be hanging on the crew’s bus.”

Liam murmured his thanks, then slowly maneuvered his way toward the back, through the first doorway, past the bunks, through the second doorway, and into the open lounge area. Harry’s surprise was laid out for him when he reached his destination.

The table had been draped with a white cloth, covered dishes residing on either side. A small, folded note leaned against one, Liam’s name in Harry’s familiar broad scrawl across the front. He plucked it from the table, the crinkling sound of the crisp vellum page almost reassuring in the softly lit silence.

 

_Li –  
_

_Trust yourself. The right words will come. More importantly, you have to trust each other. It’s what’s pulled Louis and me through the past few years, and without it, love won’t work. You can’t love properly if you are looking for specters of the past around every corner. I’m not saying it will be easy, but it’s worth it. I promise._

_H._

Refolding the note, Liam tucked it into the outside pocket on his gym bag, before tossing it into the corner. Before he could take the time to contemplate Harry’s words, the muffled sounds of voices drifted down the corridor. Recognizing Louis’ lilting pitch, he steeled himself for the confrontation to come.

**~*~*~*~**

Zayn ducked through the doorway first, his attention turned to the smaller man behind him, his thick Bradford accent resonating into the empty room.

“ . . . they were sick, though! Can’t believe they wouldn’t let us wear them.”

Louis’ muttered ‘fucking management” was immediately drowned out by his startled “oof” when he collided with Zayn, who had stopped short in his tracks. His eyes locked on Liam, the familiar love visible, though shrouded in hurt, before the mask slammed down to shutter it away. The glimpse had been enough to bolster Liam’s hope.

He cleared his throat,  forcing down the lump that had lodged there, all the while his eyes greedily drinking in the sight of his boyfriend in front of him. While they still spent every day together, the only time he’d ever felt more distant was when Zayn had to leave the tour last summer for a week.

“Sooooooooo . . . there’s that.” Louis clapped a hand to Zayn’s shoulder. “Consider this an intervention by concerned parties.” He looked at Liam and nodded reassuringly. “We’ll see you later, yeah?” He backed out the doorway, sliding the partition door shut, but not without an audacious wink while mouthing the words “change the sheets.”

Liam resisted the urge to flip off his friend. Instead, he turned his attention to where Zayn still stood, not having moved since seeing Liam in front of him. Taking a hesitant step forward, Liam gestured toward the table.

“Harry arranged dinner for us. Do you want . . .,” Liam’s voice trailed off, the question hanging in the air, his hand unconsciously lifting to rake his fingers through the still-damp tendrils curling on his forehead.

“Yeah.” Zayn voice cracked, and he cleared his throat before continuing, “Some food would be good.”  

He dropped his bag to the side of the door, then slid onto one of the narrow benches. Hiding a sigh of relief, Liam joined Zayn at the table. The scent of chicken wafted from the dishes when Liam lifted the lids to find the succulent meat nestled on a bed of rice pilaf, accompanied by a vegetable medley. A third lifted lid revealed a bowl of assorted hard rolls and pats of butter. Liam silently passed one of the dishes to Zayn, then nudged the bowl closer to the center of the table. Nodding at the muffled words of thanks, he picked up his fork, wondering if he would even be able to swallow anything while so much still remained to be said.

The feel of Zayn’s foot hooking behind his ankle startled him, and he lifted his head with a jerk. Zayn stared intently at his plate, his eyelashes swooping down to cover his piercing glance. A slight smile played at the corner of his lips, his shoulders more relaxed than they had been in days. Liam’s breath caught at the sight. The dark shadows under Zayn’s eyes did nothing to detract from the almost linear perfection of his features, but still accentuated how hard the week had been on him, too.

They ate in silence, each stealing glances at the other. Zayn left the table once to find some bottles of water, recapturing Liam’s foot when he sat back down. Their fingers brushed against each other’s on the cold plastic, sending searing warmth coursing through Liam’s veins. This was his love, his forever. He couldn’t continue like they had been since Monday. Setting aside his fork, Liam wiped the napkin across his lips, before dropping it onto the plate. With tentative fingers, he reached across the table, laying them over top of Zayn’s in the least threatening gesture he could think of that would still allow him the physical contact he craved.

“We need to talk, Zee.”

Zayn pulled his hand away and slid away from the table to get to his feet. Walking the few short steps to the other side of the lounge, he stopped, his shoulders drooping. Liam’s heart  plummeted. He hadn’t wanted to push, but with the situation affecting the others, and Perrie arriving in two days, he didn’t have a choice.

Pushing himself off the bench, Liam tried again.

“Zee –“

“I know, Liam. Just . . . I . . . give me a minute.”

Liam stood next to the table, his fingers twisting the hem of his t-shirt, while every part of him longed to walk over and wrap himself around Zayn, to protect him from the world. The muscle in his jaw twitched, resisting the tight clench of his teeth that held back the words threatening to spill over if he opened his mouth. Just when the silence became unbearable, Liam about to ask the one question he didn’t want to voice, much less know the answer to, Zayn moved. His back straightened, his posture squared, and his shoulders lifted with the release of a heaving sigh.

“I fucked up, Liam. I made a mistake, and we’re all paying for it. I know it; you know it; the boys know it.” Zayn paused, taking and releasing another breath. “But I don’t know how to fix it, and I’m scared of what it’s going to cost me. Scared it’s already cost me the only thing that matters.” His voice broke then, the thin shoulders shaking under the impact of saying out loud what he’d been burying inside.

Liam crossed the room faster than he could think about his decision. Grasping Zayn’s arm, Liam turned him around and pulled him into his chest. The thin fabric of his shirt was soon damp, but Liam continued to hold on, willing Zayn to feel some kind of comfort. Muffled words drifted up to his ears – pleas begging for forgiveness, asking for a chance to make it right, to start over. Through it all, Liam stoically held on, encouraging Zayn, finally, to lean on him. When the sobs began to subside, Liam leaned back, bringing his hand up to lift Zayn’s chin.

“Look at me, babe.” Reluctantly, the whiskey-colored eyes opened, the thick wet lashes only emphasizing the agony staring back at him. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Even if you push me away, I’m gonna be here.” His own voice shook, but he pushed on. “I don’t know how to be anywhere but beside you.” Liam swiped his thumb across Zayn’s cheek, gently brushing the tears away. “But I can’t hold us together on my own. You have to talk to me.”

“I can’t find the words to explain it to myself, how can I talk to you?” Zayn tried to pull away, but Liam held on.

“No, you’re not walking away this time. We can’t change what happened,  and until we sort this, we can’t move forward, either. Besides, there’s nowhere else for you to go, and I’m not letting you hide anymore.”

“What more do you want from me? I don’t think there’s anything left to give.”

“Yeah, there is.” Liam loosened his grip letting go to clasp Zayn’s hands. “For starters, you could trust me.”

Zayn jerked his hands free, spluttering out his reply. “What? But, I _do_ trust you. You know more about me than anyone in my life, including me mum.”

“You trusted me with your secrets. You trusted me with your love, but you’ve held part of your heart away.” Liam reached for Zayn’s hands again and pulled him closer to brush kisses across the tear-streaked cheeks. He moved closer, his words ghosting over Zayn’s skin. “I know, because I’ve been doing it, too.”

Liam didn’t know who moved first, but their lips came together - soft at first, then more insistent. Liam’s large hands spanned Zayn’s back, fisting the fabric on his waist and pulling him closer. Mewling whimpers escaped them both, their ragged breaths exhaled through their noses as they drowned in each other. Zayn rested his hands on Liam’s face, gentling the kiss to soft pecks exchanged between whispered affirmations of love.

Holding onto Zayn, Liam settled onto the lounge sofa, guiding Zayn down to sit on his thighs. He pulled him closer, dropping his chin to rest on the inky black hair.

“I knew what I was getting into when we started this, Zee. I didn’t enter blindly, with no clue of what we would be up against, not after two years of watching Lou and Haz struggle with everything management puts on them.” He sighed, pressing a kiss to Zayn’s head. “I’m not gonna lie, there are things that are hard to deal with, like knowing you and Perrie shared more than just PR dates. A part of me always wonders if you’ll change your mind, now that you proved you could win me.” Zayn leaned back, his eyes indignant in protest, but Liam silenced him with a quick kiss. “Hear me out, babe. I didn’t say that's what you felt; it’s my fears and I accept them. But when you shut me out, when you don’t talk to me, my fears override what I know is true in my heart.”

“Are you trying to make me feel worse than I already do about everything?”

Zayn didn’t look up, but Liam could tell he was hurt. He stroked a soothing hand across the smaller man’s back, bringing it to rest between his shoulders, before he responded.

“No, that’s not it at all. I’m trusting you with the last pieces of my heart. I’m trusting you with everything, because we aren’t going to make it if we don’t learn how to do that.” Liam nudged his chin against Zayn’s head, encouraging him to look at him. Staring deeply into eyes he recognized more than his own reflection, Liam continued, “I’m giving you everything – my love, my pain, my heart, my joy, and my tears. None of them matter anyway if you aren’t part of it all.”

Zayn smiled shakily, a fresh wave of tears filling his eyes. With a rueful chuckle, he asked, “Who are you, and what did you do with my boyfriend that can’t string two sentences together without making a mess of it, much less an entire dissertation of undying devotion?”

“Let’s just say that we have wise friends; friends who know us better than we know ourselves apparently.”

After ducking in for another quick kiss, Zayn settled his head against Liam’s shoulder. “They’re right. They’ll never let us forget it, either.”

“I think I can live with the continuous reminder of their superiority, so long as I’m not alone facing it."

“No, love. Not alone – never alone. I’m right here beside you.” 

 

**_~FIN~_ **


End file.
